Knot
by absolutelycancerous
Summary: She likes him in a tie.


She likes him in a tie.

Especially when he's got his dress shirt open, tie loosened around his neck and boxers low on his hips, pulling her into his lap for a continuation of kisses and a promise of sloppy makeouts that make his blood sing and his grin lustful.

Maka straddles his lap, lets him grab at her hips so she's pressing right against his cock, and begins kissing at her, sliding his hips in a slowly-maddening pace as he mumbles about how excited he's been about this all day, god, she's going to drive him fucking crazy.

She's thankful for the fact she's missing the majority of her clothes, excluding her undies, because if Soul gets to keep his on, she gets to keep hers, too. His lap is warm (mostly because his dick is pressing up against her, and that's certainly something warm) and she rather likes the way one hand grips her ass while the other threads through her hair and controls the way she tilts her head as their tongues slide and mold against each others; his teeth prick at her bottom lip, and he grunts in response to the moan she gives into his mouth.

He's trying to tug her panties down with numb fingers when she bites at his ear, grins when he quite literally jerks underneath her, and she slowly runs a fingertip over his scar, just to make him shiver.

"I like this," she tells him, soft and in a seductive whisper as she replaces her fingertip with her tongue, lapping a wet line from the portion under his right pec and up to the tip of light pink scar tissue. She revels in his moan, his hips trying to hold up against her constantly, his labored breaths—she likes when he has control, but she _**loves**_ when he gives _her_ control.

"I like it, too," he answers when he sucks in enough air just for a sentence of that length. Maka shoots him a look, grinds her hips down hard enough to make his head jerk back as he cries out, splutters for language before he remembers to spit out, "_master_!"

Not that she's into him calling her that all the time—he generally says it when he's being a smartass. But, when Maka's the one in control, the one in charge of whether or not he gets to come, and in what way, shape, and form he gets to do so, the "master" title makes her a little more inclined to treat him.

Her fingers trail up his chest, fiddle with his shirt collar before yanking it aside. She latches onto his neck, finding his aftershave the most intoxicating and erotic scent she's ever encountered as she kisses and licks and sucks, making sure to leave a mark the size of a softball, if at all possible, because this is merely a distraction for him. For, while he's panting and tangling his fingers in her hair, her hand stealthily finds that tie hanging down, slowly turns it around and around to wind it around all her fingers, and makes sure she tightens it a tad before she gives it a nice, hard _yank_.

His whimper makes her shudder—he's too much and he doesn't even _know_ it!

"_Maka_," he groans, and his eye do that half-lidded glance that makes her worm a little in his lap because _she's_ supposed to be in control here, and he's only using his _eyes_ to make her want to hump his brains out; he's obviously a cheater! He deserves another tug.

She watches the knot press against his Adam's apple—she's not trying to kill him or anything, she's done this before (with Soul's help in tugging the tie) and knows how tight she can pull before he gets uncomfortable, which, when he hits his limit with choking, she gets to pick another way to use it, that's the silent rule.

So she pulls, grinds in his lap and lets Soul's hands cup and squeeze her backside, making sure she grinds herself right against his aching cock; he's going to die if this doesn't end soon, and it's going to be a wonderful way to go out, even if Maka has to mourn his death while fingering herself.

Maka pulls him forward a little, arches her back and sighs when he gets the message, taking a tit into his mouth to lick and nip at. He's not stupid, but with a limit on how much air he can take in, he's a little slow, but it's certainly alright, for what he slips up on in wit he makes up for with skill; good **god**, his mouth is an amazing place.

His face gets red as it usually does when she's pulling on his tie, his breaths get faster and faster the tighter her hold gets before she hears the little crackles of his grunts, the ones that mean he'd like the tie off. And she's not a sadist, she doesn't like when he panics and starts clawing for freedom, that's not what this is about, so she quickly gets the tie off from around his throat and holds it in her hands, chewing her lip in thought.

"Hands?"

She shakes her head. "I don't want to fall." She means off the sofa, because **that's happened before** and she suffered a minor concussion from slamming her skull on the hardwood—they're more careful about tying up his hands now.

Maka smiles as she unravels the tie from her fingers. "Hold your head forward."

He snorts, "Cliché," but he doesn't protest as Maka kisses his forehead and ties the tie over his eyes, making sure he can't peek by asking how many fingers she's holding up and having him guess. He's wrong, so she figures it's on correctly.

Maka gets up from his lap, stifles her laughter when he reaches out to drag her back and ends up grabbing at air before he simply gets a hand on his dick to both cover his shame and make up for the pressure her hips are no longer there to provide. Instead, she sinks down to her knees, nearly has to claw his knees apart so she can gets his boxers off and toss them away. His face is looking down at her, although he can't see, but he's already panting, already begging for her to do it, touch him, please!

So she doesn't make him wait any longer, simply takes the tip into her mouth to suck on and all around before moving down, inch by painstaking inch, until she's got most nearly the entirety of his cock in her mouth.

Lick by lick, she drives him insane, making sure not to let him gag her with his anatomy when he bucks his hips up a little to eagerly into her face; not that she minds, but choking on his knob isn't very sexy for either of them. Over and over, she swipes her tongue over the tip, in small circles, cradles his dick in her tongue before swallowing most of him again, only to pull back and repeat the process, giving a little hum the next few times his cock brushes the back of her throat.

She internally smiles (since if she does outwardly, she's going to scrape her teeth on his penis, and he's going to yell and make her stop) when she hears his groans turn into quick pants, and then into high-pitches grunts as he grabs handfuls of her hair, making her stay with his cock pretty deep into her mouth as he gives a few desperate little grinds against her face before he's yelling her name and a string of curses as he spills into her mouth, orgasm nearly de-boning him and making his heart stutter in its rhythm; she's too good at this.

Maka swallows (she doesn't have much of a choice!) and slowly takes her mouth off him, hiding a smile as she wipes her face when he makes girly-sounding noises at the sensation of her lips brushing hypersensitive flesh.

She rests her cheek against his knee, quietly watches his cock twitch and slither down to its usual place between his legs as Soul catches his breath above her, running his fingers through her hair because she's too far away for him to cuddle her.

"You can take the blindfold off," she tells him, a bit confused when he's still got it tied around his head.

He grins, though, the kind of grin that usually means he's got something up his sleeve, and pulls her back up to sit next to him. The tie comes off, and he quickly pulls her close, tugging it around her head to knot it in the back.

"I've got a better idea."

She smiles under the makeshift blindfold.


End file.
